


Watching You, Watching Me

by RayneMoonFyre



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 17:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayneMoonFyre/pseuds/RayneMoonFyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cat and mouse game of innocent looks... or are they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thirteen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

When all my friends started noticing girls, I started noticing my friends. I see the way their bodies are developing and their voices deepening. I started to notice the guys more on the Rez then, too.   
Why have I never seen him before? He’s older, tall and gangly—like most teenagers—but that’s what made him so cute. He knew it and just didn’t care. But who am I to talk; I’m tiny and probably always will be.   
They call me ‘the pipsqueak’. I’m always hanging around because my sister had to babysit, and her now ex-boyfriend was one of the crew. I kept telling mom I didn’t need a babysitter, but she didn’t want me home alone.   
Whenever he is around he always seemed to tease me, but I guess that is okay. At least, he is paying attention.


	2. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cat and mouse game of innocent looks... or are they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

What happened to them? One day they are these skinny kids, then, one by one, they are all massive.  
It just isn’t good for keeping a low profile, especially around him. He was always cute, but now he’s just amazing. He’s tall, rugged, and with the shorter hair—I just… I can’t even begin. I don’t think he’ll ever notice me. I’m the skinny kid, just Leah’s little brother, the tag along. But that’s okay; I keep to myself when we all get together anyway. I am happy just to be included, to be one of the boys, even if my sister is hanging around.   
We still get together at the beach for bonfires, but a few girls start showing up, trying to get the boys, cum mens, attention. I watch as they flirt and giggle with the guys, but he doesn’t seem very interested. I notice him look at me sometimes, but then he looks away to talk to some girl, or to one of the guys.  
Who is watching who?


	3. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cat and mouse game of innocent looks... or are they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

It’s finally happened. I became one of them; a wolf. I may be smallest, but I’m quickest. And now, not only do I have to watch where I look, but I also my thoughts. We apparently share them in our transformed states.   
Just great.  
We are getting together to hear the Old Legends. It will be my first time, but also the first time an outsider will hear them as well.   
Gathering around the fire, I watch as all my brothers listen. I stop and look at one a bit longer before moving on, but not before noticing he is looking at me as well. As I return to look at Old Quil, I can still feel his eyes on me.


	4. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cat and mouse game of innocent looks... or are they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

I look around the bonfire at all the imprinted couples, and think how unfair it is as I see her hanging off him, and fawning over him. It should be me. I stare at the fire trying to watch them without being noticed, and can see him watching me as well. He always watches me when he thinks I’m not looking. But I am always looking. I turn to talk to someone and can feel his eyes still on me.

When we patrol together I hide my thoughts from him, and his from me. Odd, as he’s a vocal wolf. I wonder why he does it. Maybe it’s to spare my young mind from the memories of what he does with his imprint. Like I care; I see what everyone else does, what will it matter if it’s one more?   
Except it does matter; I didn’t want to know. I want him for myself, but I take what I can get for now.   
Then it all goes to hell when our true Alpha imprints on Bella’s baby, and the pack splits. I barely see him anymore, and it feels like I’m going to go insane with the need to go back. But I can’t, not with what the fill-in alpha is doing. I like the Vamps, they don’t treat me like a kid, but take care of me at the same time. It’s nice.  
When one of their ‘cousins’ reports the Cullens to the Volturi, the pack comes back together to protect our common ground. It’s like my world is whole again as soon as I see him.   
We all train together like we used to; I feel his eyes on me as we mock battle.   
We go to the beach for a bonfire, and all the imprints are there. She is hanging off him again, and my chest crushes. I leave back for the Vamp territory to patrol, unable to bear watching them together. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way to the tree line where I shift.


	5. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cat and mouse game of innocent looks... or are they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

I fall onto my bed after a particularly long patrol. With so many of the pack imprinted, and the imprints pregnant or needing ‘babysitters’ the rest of us have to pick up the slack. Not that there has been much of a need to patrol since the Volturi battle last year. But we do it anyway to keep our senses sharp. I lay there for a bit, before deciding I should take a shower. As I get up I realize that I am being watched again through the window, and I know by whom.  
I decide to have a little fun with him.


	6. Getting What I Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited By The Lovely Boo's Boys. You're the Best.

I get up from my bed and stand so I can see myself in the full-length mirror in my room. It’s positioned conveniently so someone looking in the window can see into it. I begin stripping off my clothes; I revel in the sight of the muscles that are revealed as each piece of cloth is discarded. After being the skinny little kid for so long, it feels good to see the slightly bulked up version of myself.

As I run my fingers over my smooth chest and down to the waist of my cargos, I slowly slip the button through the hole. I pull the zipper down—the sound is loud to my sensitive hearing in my small room. The fabric separates over my already hardened erection.

I can hear a rustle of movement from outside my open window; he’s moving to get a better view. I accommodate him by shifting to face the window more. Dropping my shorts to the floor and kicking them away, I bring my hands to stroke over and around my now freed cock.  As my hand brushes over the head, a low moan escapes from the back of my throat. I use my thumb to spread the fluid, which has begun to leak from the tip, around as I slowly start to stroke myself. It feels way too good. It’s been too long since I’ve done this; to just let go and enjoyed to it fullest. Not that I don’t get off, but it’s usually wham, bam and done. This time, it’s as if my body knows that it’s in for a good time and wants to savor it. And if it makes the one outside writhe in sensual agony, all the better.

I continue my slow foreplay with myself, stroking lazily; enjoying the slide of my foreskin over the head and back. I’m just teasing—not enough to bring me off but to slowly build the pleasure.

I watch myself in the mirror knowing he is watching as well. I decide to up the game and go back to the bed, which is still completely visible in the mirror.

What can I say; I may or may not have a voyeuristic streak.

Opening the bedside drawer, I pull out a bottle of lube and toss it on the bed. I lay down on my back; my cock bounces into my stomach as I do, leaving a wet trail as it bounces back. I grab the bottle, pour a bit of the lube in one hand—warming it up—while I close it with the other. Reaching down, I grasp my shaft with my lubed hand, and shiver. I never get used to the feeling. It is smooth and feels like silk gliding over me, and with the temperature that the wolves run, I can only imagine that it would feel like a mouth around me.

His mouth.

Knowing he is just outside watching, the thought causes me to tremble. I use my other hand to play across my chest, rubbing my muscles and pulling at my hardened nipples. I wonder what it would feel like if he were to suck and nip at them.

Feeling that I need more of something, I open the bottle again, pour more liquid into my hand, before closing it up again. I rub my hands together and spread my legs apart. Taking my cock in one hand, I stroke it firmly, while in the other, I cup and roll my sac. Pulling slightly—staving off the buildup of pleasure for just a bit—I trail my hand further back, pressing in and massaging the space behind my balls. I release a loud moan into the room, and hear an accompanying moan from just outside my window, as a smirk forms on my lips.

My hand continues its path, trailing further back until it reaches my hole. My back arches and I groan as my fingers graze over it. The sensation isn’t new but always welcome. Stroking myself slowly, I press one finger into myself. It’s a snug fit; it’s been too long since I’ve played like this, and I can tell. I get the first knuckle in and move it in and out. Breathing heavily, I slide my finger in further; the stretch and burn causes me to hiss, but it feels so good. I pull my finger out and attempt to push two in this time. The stretch is even more noticeable, causing me to groan and arch, as my other hand continues stroking.

My pleasure is causing my visitor to growl and moan his own pleasure, and I briefly wonder what he was doing outside my window.

My resolve is strengthened to get him inside and show his hand, as it were. I push my two fingers in and out, relishing the slick drag as my body accepts the stretch.

I decide to go for three.

Taking my hand off my cock, I pour more lube on my fingers, knowing more is always okay, and recap it. Gritting my teeth, my three fingers slide in; feeling like they are going to tear me open at any time. Knowing they won’t is a challenge I’m definitely up for. When they sink all the way in, I pause to give myself time to adjust to the feeling of being filled again. Once I’m sure I can handle it, I begin to move them in and out—slowly at first. On the third pass, my fingertips graze over my prostate, and I let out a keening moan. It’s loud enough that I know he would have heard me even if he hadn’t been plastered to the side of my house.

Taking my other hand off my steadily leaking cock, I reach over to my bedside drawer to pull out something I was only just able to buy when I turned eighteen. It is long, smooth, and black, with multiple settings, and tonight will be its trial run. I pull my fingers from my stretched hole, grasp the bottom and give it a twist. It comes to life in my hands, strong and steady on this setting, but a little flip of the button and it pulsates still as strong. I stroke over the shaft, to get it ready, and trail it over my straining erection. The pulsations send pleasure through me, making me moan wantonly. I hear him respond in kind, making me wonder how much more he can take.

I am about to find out.

I slide the vibe further down over my balls, causing me to arch into the sensation. I bring it past them, pressing in a bit, and revel in the feeling.

Why didn’t I just order one online years ago? Right, mom checks the mail.

Finally, I reach my destination. The tip catches on my rim, and the feeling is odd but nice at the same time. I press in just a bit, and am shocked at the strength of the vibrations. I turn them down; much better. I press in again slowly until my fingers are flush with my skin. It doesn’t feel bad; in fact, the sensations adding to the fullness is pretty amazing. I pull back on the toy, and, as I do, the tip hits my prostate causing my back to come off the bed and my eyes to roll back in my head. I scream in pleasure, pushing back in almost immediately at the same angle, and hit my prostate again.

As I keep the toy angled, I move to bring my hand back to my neglected cock—only to have it restrained next to my head by a strong but gentle hand. I am startled out of my near orgasmic haze.

When did he come through the window, and how did I not feel my bed dip with his added weight?

He is now leaning over me; eyes dilated so far that they are nearly black with desire. He has one leg between mine and is staring at me, as his eyes dart between mine and the toy moving in and out of me. I notice that he is also as naked as I am—as stunning as I remember—and hard. His cock is long, thick and pointing up towards his stomach. I just want to touch it.

I continue to push the vibe in and out just to see what he’ll do. Will he grab it and stop me? Will he just watch? Or, will he take over? He doesn’t keep me waiting. His other hand stops mine and pulls out the toy, and I moan at the loss of the sensations. He then surprises me by rubbing his fingers over my open hole. He presses in with his middle finger, and as I push into it trying to get more, he pulls back and smirks at me.

The bastard.

He again pushes further back in, and I clench around his finger and smile innocently back at him.

Two can play this game.

He catches on quicker than I thought he would, grabs the bottle from my side and pours some over his fingers—that are brushing over my hole—and closes it up. I suddenly feel a lot more pressure pushing into me, and I tense. His hand sweeps over my side trying to relax me, before he bends down and brushes a gentle kiss to my lips. It is the first time he has ever kissed me. I look into his eyes, questioning. He just nods as if he knows; as if he has always known. I guess he has; he’s my imprint, though he has tried to hide it. He’s now accepting it.

His fingers keep up the push and pull; the gentle opening and stretching. They’re longer and thicker than mine, and when he slides in a third after, adding more lube, he hits that spot with no searching. I come off the bed with a growl of his name. I look into his eyes and reach with my free hand to pull him to me, dragging him down to kiss me. I need him to kiss me again. We kiss for what seems an eternity until we can’t breathe and need to break for air. He trails kisses down my throat, never stopping his fingers, placing kisses where ever he can reach.

Alternating kisses with bites, he reaches my chest.  I’m going crazy with sensations; top and bottom, push, pull, bite, kiss. It’s all too much, and I’m going to explode if he doesn’t do something about it soon. Or, I will just throw him off the damn bed and take care of it my damn self.

 I’m a writhing mess, and I think he’s getting the picture really fast. I reach down, grab his cock and start to stroke him firmly closer and closer to me. He looks like he’s going to fall over with the sensation, and, given that he still is stretching me while trying to hold himself up, it was probably not my best idea. But I want him in me now. I reach over with my free hand toward my bedside table, hoping he’ll get the idea, and thank the ancestors he does. He reaches past me to open the drawer, and grabs out a condom. Removing his fingers—much to my disappointment—he opens the foil package.

Rolling the condom down his length, he applies more lube and places a pillow under my hips to make things easier. He pushes in slowly, letting me get used to the size and fullness; he’s nothing like my toy, that’s for sure. But slowly, steadily he moves all the way in, as his hips press tight to mine. Both of us groan at the feeling; me at the fullness, and he at the tight clench around him. He leans down, and places his forehead to mine, staring into my eyes. He waits for me to just give him the slightest of nods, of anything to let him know he can move. I take a deep breath, blink and shift a bit. There is no pain; just a pleasant sort of something I can’t really describe. I lean up and press a kiss to his lips.

He takes this exactly as I meant it and pulls out slowly, watching my eyes to see my reaction. When he can see nothing that can be assumed to be pain—thanks to our wolf healing, I guess—he pushes in faster; hips meeting hips. He keeps this pace, watching me, and kissing me, until I wrap my legs around his hips and help his pace along. I need more; he is going too slowly.

The change in position, in angle, does something and he is hitting that spot again, my prostate, and it feels like I am going to explode—and I haven’t even touched myself.

Growling, moans, and grunts echo through my room. I reach down and grab my aching cock and begin to stoke myself in time with his aided thrusts. It feels like only a matter of a couple of strokes before I am coming hard over my stomach and chest, while clenching down hard on the cock inside me with a scream of his name.

From somewhere above me, I hear an answering growl of my name ripped from his lips as he comes inside me. I unwind my legs from around his waist, and he collapses on top of me; bearing the brunt of his weight on his elbows. His head is resting in the hollow of my shoulder as we pant heavily, coming down from the highs of our mutual orgasms. When he has caught his breath, he slowly pulls back and out of me. Tying off the condom, he throws it in the bin by my bed. Then grabbing the wipes from the drawer, he cleans us up, before we both drop to the bed on our sides.

Neither of us speaks; both of us know that there will be time for that in the morning. He pulls me into his side and turns on his back, so I’m cuddled into his side.

Who’d have guessed my imprint was a closet cuddler?  Who would have thought all those years ago that I would end up with him? He was so different than me, but they say opposites attract, right?

I know it was a dangerous game I played tonight; that it could’ve gone so many ways, but in the end it got me him. It got my imprint to finally notice me and to take charge of his destiny.

It got me Paul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  



End file.
